


After(shock)

by drvology



Category: Batman (Unspecified canon), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:57:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaction--damage, fear, reconnection & risk--sets in after a would-be bust goes badly awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After(shock)

**Author's Note:**

> B:TAS is my favorite Batverse incarnation; it's become my default setting when imagining the characters &c. That established, I think the fic I write can be aptly labeled 'canon & time nonspecific.'  
> → Written in an hour for 60_minute_fics challenge group @ LJ || 071406 Prompt #2 _'Cops, Cops, and More Cops' -- Write / include cops in your fic._

Nightwing came to in a sharp pang of not enough breath. His ribs ached and his head rang; his whole body felt concussed.

He wiggled his fingers, then his toes--they worked. His nose burned and when he opened his eyes he stared into nothing.

Okay. Now what?

It was easy to conjure Batman's voice, to let it hammer in his brain louder than the ringing. It got him rolled over, low groan bitten back, and he realized the nothing he'd seen was the floor. No wonder about his nose.

Breathe in, breathe out--better now. It still hurt like a blade-sharp flick against his lungs, but breathing was good. Definitely good.

Details began to filter in, filter back.

Gotham wharf. Shipping docks. He and Batman here on a potential crack of Rupert Thorne's latest underhand money making scheme. Vantage point from the high ground and the two of them waiting for just the right moment, watching crates and Thorne's men and biding their time.

Then--sirens, in the distance. Lights blue and red and yellow that had made Batman's eyes narrow and his lips tighten.

Sometimes the cops were a big help. Sometimes, a hindrance.

This night, they'd come too soon.

Thorne's men had abandoned the crates, made for quick getaways. Nightwing and Batman had followed, swept down from the nearby warehouse rooftop, landed in the high-tension fray of the egress.

They'd nodded at each other, made ready.

Then--a high-pitched whine. Light bright white and blinding that had made Batman disappear from his focused, confused gaze.

Nightwing pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and groaned.

Rupert Thorne and illegal weapons and past-midnight crate scurries and the police, full-barrel. Of course that had ended with a bang.

He'd roll his eyes but it'd hurt too much.

"Nightwing?"

Batman's voice, low and urgent, there always there, that moment before Nightwing could seize upon its absence and panic.

He grunted, lifted a hand, waved weak back and forth.

A shadow blurred past, came close, blotted out the clean-up job icy white police floodlights and the flip-flip police red and blue sirenlights and the incessant sweep of their yellow lowbeam police-issue flashlights.

Batman lowered over him, looked him up and down.

"Are you hurt?" Almost worried, straight to the point.

"Naw." Nightwing winced. "Just fine."

Batman nodded, curled a hand around his shoulder. He sat up slow with Batman's help, lurched forward, hand now dug into the cup of his eye and nose.

Okay. Too soon for that.

"Nightwing?"

He breathed, wrapped his hand around Batman's arm, let the dizziness swim him round and round.

"Dick?" So quiet, almost nonexistent.

"Need a minute--dizzy is all--you know. I'll be fine," he reassured faintly, still partly winded. He patted Batman's arm and the hand on his shoulder tightened, pushed him back down.

"Are you hurt?" was repeated, insistent, husky with a thread of uncertainty.

Nightwing's breath sawed into him and he considered if he had broken ribs. Probably not, didn't feel busted, just bruised from his blast joyride. The crash after probably hadn't helped much, either. Nothing else was busted, he was sure--but nauseating vertigo--now _that_ he could do.

Without particular intent he lets his hand trip up Batman's arm until his fingers found the warmth of skin and the slip of cowl. He cupped Batman's cheek, rubbed with his thumb, nodded absently as he mouthed _fine, fine._

They had been shocked back into the warehouse, landed in heaps of twisted metal and splintered palettes and blown-up gun bits. Nightwing had been closer, had borne a greater brunt.

Noises were around them, police and paramedics, movement and machines, and something beeped as it backed up--maybe an ambulance, maybe a forklift. Footsteps crunched and rattled and went careful and slow through the rubble. Voices called, communicated, read rights, barked defiantly back. It all worked in chaotic tandem to clean this mess.

Nightwing opened his eyes, looked at Batman, watched his finger at the corner of Batman's mouth. He sighed.

"I'll be fine." When he exhaled he wheezed, a touch, but it hurt less and the dizziness was almost gone.

Batman frowned, stayed, watched him. They should be going, get out of here before they were caught up in the aftermath, get themselves to the Cave and once-overed then shower and bed. Instead Batman remained, held his shoulder, watched.

Someone yelled, someone found in the rubble, one of Thorne's goons. Activity swarmed, not far from where Nightwing laid on cement and debris. Batman glanced over, glanced back at Nightwing.

The jaw in his hold set.

Batman's cape took flight, circled overhead, and Batman boosted up then lowered down over Nightwing. The cape surrounded them, cocooned them, just another dark mass within all the wreckage.

Nightwing tightened his hold, pulled, knew what was wanted and wanted it back.

"Dick," Batman whispered again, husky still but so different.

He licked his lips, licked Batman's, whispered, "Bruce."

Batman's hands contoured over him, everywhere, dug in and caressed, searched and massaged. Nightwing's legs spread open and his breath hitched and he wasn't hurt- not that much- and Batman's breath met his then they kissed.

It tasted of haste and blood, gunpowder and dust, Batman and Bruce. It was dangerous, this kiss, not leaving, his whispers low of _Bruce_ murmured between their mouths.

The searching hands changed and it shook through him, made him arch into the touch, made him gasp, hands a desperate scrabble as he writhed. It still hurt to breathe and Batman made quick work of his suit, from the waist pushed up, from the waist pushed down.

Snaps and catches undone and ache of ribs and catches of breath- too many layers then only heated skin- hands and mouths and cock to cock.

Batman shuddered, slid heated perfect-fit into the bend of Nightwing's hip, bit behind his ear.

The air beneath the cape was hot and humid and got closer as they got closer.

Nightwing reached up, fingers hard and deep against Batman's shoulderblades.

They pulled one another apart.

Metal screamed as it bent, clattered when it was dropped. It was a forklift, this and that taken away, revealed, picked through. There would be smoke from this for hours.

"Dick--" Batman grunted, guttural, twist-tight against the sweat and skin of Nightwing's neck.

He vaulted up, feet pressed on their soles, urged with his hips and his hands, found Batman's mouth and kissed again, again, fierce and frightened, yes and here we are, here we are fine gonna be fine.

Nightwing came first, too fast not fast enough, struggled to breathe in the suffocation under the cape and the heat and weight of Batman's body. Batman held still, held his hips, felt him come. Then his name, again.

"Nightwing. _Dick._ " so low, almost no breath or sound.

Batman came, jaw clamped determinedly shut, strangled noise in his throat and rattled in his chest.

Wet heat shared. Between them, slicked them, sweat and come and moist-breath and adrenaline run-off.

The pain was still sharp in his lungs but Nightwing didn't feel it. The police were still there, nearby, and Nightwing didn't care. This would be the only surrender they found here and Nightwing thought it was damn more than enough.

Batman moved the cape just so to allow cool air to rush in and Nightwing breathed deep.

Nightwing nudged his nose against Batman's neck, up along the line of his cowl, and Batman breathed him deep.

They kissed, soft and slow. Nightwing held Batman's cheek, rubbed his thumb to touch their lips. Batman held his hip, held his shoulder, and they breathed.


End file.
